


La Tresse: The Plaited Bun

by MerHums



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Anal Sex, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Bondage, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Retirement, Retirementlock, Rimming, Safe Sane and Consensual, Semi-Public Sex, Sort of AU, baker!Greg, mystrade, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 09:22:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6748168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerHums/pseuds/MerHums
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s fine.” Mycroft put the coffee down and glanced back at the front, but there was no sign of new customers. “And...it would be fine if you kissed me.”</p><p>Greg paused, pulling his hands out and wiping them on his apron. “Are you sure?” </p><p>“Gregory, we have known each other for nearly thirty years. I have had a bit to think about things.” Mycroft smiled at him. “We just never had time, did we?”</p><p>“No. Don’t think we did.” Greg smiled back and stepped closer, crowding Mycroft up against the workspace and cupping his face. “But you know, you did say you were bored.” He leaned in, stealing a deep kiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	La Tresse: The Plaited Bun

**Author's Note:**

> For added fluffy thoughts, listen to : [Falling In Love at a Coffee Shop ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=erywPdFfORE%20%0A)by Landon Pigg
> 
> If you'd like to try to make a plaited bun ( the namesake of Greg's bakery and what he taught Mycroft to make) for yourself, there's a recipe [here ](http://breadbaking.about.com/od/braidedrolls/tp/White-Braided-Rolls-With-Step-By-Step-Instructions-And-Pictures.htm). 
> 
> Our fluffy fic got smutty really fast. Enjoy!

“Two chocolate chip muffins, a coffee and an espresso for take out,” Greg called, handing the order off as the customer came up. He smiled as they threw a coin in the tip jar and headed out. Greg glanced around and then flipped the sign in the window off, deciding to take a well deserved lunch break. 

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he walked into the back, and smiled ruefully at his reflection, hair gone completely silver and wrinkles formed at the corners of his eyes. He’d aged well, considering the years he’d dealt with Sherlock and the yard before retiring at fifty-five. 

For a few years, he’d wondered just what he was supposed to do with himself, tried traveling and writing a book. But none of it had gone like he’d wanted it too. Then his cousin who’d been running their grandfather’s bakery had died suddenly, heart attack, and Greg had thrown his lot in, taking it up and taking over, finding a new sort of happiness in doughy hands and floury aprons. 

It was just like the old days, music in the kitchen, Irish folk even though they were French. A sign above the door of weathered wood. Sherlock stopped in sometimes, and Greg was pleased to know he’d had a hand in fattening the younger man up. 

He was still single though, never having remarried after his wife finally left him for a personal trainer from America. He didn’t really mind, not all the time. But at night, it would be nice to have someone beside him warming the bed. Someone to eat dinner with, and just chat to. 

Sitting down with a bowl of soup and a fresh baked sweet bun, Greg groaned as he heard the twinkle of the bell on the door. He’d forgotten to lock the door, and no one read the sign. He stood, and headed out, only to grin as he saw a familiar face. “Mycroft? What are you doing here?” he asked. Even with grey shot through his hair, Mycroft was still gorgeous, still brilliant and utterly unobtainable. Greg had no problems admitting his crush on the man had lasted for nearly thirty years now.”It’s been nearly two years. If it weren’t for Sherlock complaining about you, I’d think you’d have popped off to somewhere warm to retire.” 

“I did retire,” said Mycroft. “Last month. And I suddenly understand exactly what Sherlock always meant by ‘bored’.”

Greg chuckled. “Well, I tried to retire. But as you can see….” He gestured around. “Can I treat you to lunch since you’re here? Homemade soup and buns.” 

“Sounds delicious. Thank you.”

“Go on and lock the door for me and then come back?” Greg asked. “I’ll get you a bowl.” 

Mycroft did so. “Sherlock said you were happily baking. I see he was right.”

“I am. I used to love working summers with my grandfather here, and coming back just...seemed like the right thing to do. And it turned out it was the right choice.” Greg smiled and passed him a bowl and plate. “Enjoy.” 

Mycroft ate, relaxing in Greg’s company in a way he hadn’t with anyone else in quite some time. He’d missed the Inspector more than he’d want to admit. The last two years hadn’t been the same without him in his life in some way, shape, or form. Being home in an empty house with nothing important to do hadn’t helped.

“So, why’d you retire?” Greg asked, breaking the easy silence. 

“It was time. I’ve been training my replacement for a few years. I know that everything is in good hands. Been letting them take over more and more until I looked around and realized I wasn’t needed. It’s… a strange feeling.”

Greg nodded. “I get that. But you are still needed. Just….not the way you used to be.”

“Perhaps.” Mycroft met his warm brown eyes and realized just how much he’d missed moments like this. Through the years he and Gregory had shared some meals, some quiet talks, but it had never seemed like the right time. Greg was married or Greg was going through his divorce. Or Mycroft had his hands full with other things. Work or life always got in the way. But now they were both retired, both sitting in the back room of a wonderful smelling bakery, sharing a simple meal.

It was nearly perfect. 

Greg smiled. “I’m sure you’ll find something to occupy yourself with. Wanna stick around and see how the bakery works? I have to open back up in a few.” 

“I’d love to. You run everything yourself?”

“For the most part. I have a few uni kids that come in every now and again on the weekends, help with stock and prep.” 

“I’d imagine it keeps you quite busy.”

“It does, but it’s nice to have something,” Greg replied, standing up and clearing their dishes. “Ready for the post lunch rush? Everyone will be stopping in on their way home for dinner rolls and desserts.” 

“May I help out?”

“Sure. You want to run the register?” 

“I can do that. It’s been some time, but I’m confident I can pick it up.”

“You’re brilliant, so I don’t doubt it,” Greg smiled, leading him out. 

Mycroft settle behind the register, taking a few moments to familiarize himself with it while Greg unlocked the door and turned the sign. Soon enough he was taking orders, giving change and receipts and finding himself falling into an easy rhythm a Greg filled orders.

Greg caught Mycroft’s eyes as he brushed past, heading for the coffee machine and he smiled. “You’re doing good.” 

“Thank you. I like working with you.”

“Yeah? Want a job?” Greg asked, delivering the coffee and then standing by Mycroft as the last of their current customers left. 

Mycroft leaned against the counter and smiled at him. “Might be a bit overqualified, but yes.” He had a desire for Greg to move closer, to pin him against the counter. Years of fantasies he’d never quite admit to himself he had.

“Well, I haven’t see you in the kitchen yet, so hold off on that qualification,” Greg teased. “I might have to train you to bake.” He leaned on the counter as well, aware of the dangerous thoughts rolling in his head about just how blue Mycroft’s eyes really were. 

Mycroft leaned into him, eyes flickering down to his lips. 

“I could though,” Greg murmured, distracted as he leaned forward himself. “If you-” 

The door went off and the pair jumped apart, Greg clearing his throat and going to serve the family that had just walked in. 

Mycroft managed not blush as he grabbed what the family wanted and watched them sit at a table. 

Greg stood awkwardly behind the counter. “Gonna run in the back and get stock,” he said, clearing his throat again. 

“Alright. I can man the front.”

“Great, thanks.” Greg ducked away, feeling more than foolish. 

Mycroft got the next few customers, but when Greg didn’t make a reappearance Mycroft fixed him a cup of coffee and brought it into the back. “Here,” he said, offering it and trying not to think of the how attractive Greg was up to his elbows in dough.

“Thanks,” Greg said. “Sorry I ran off, realized this needed to be dealt with.” 

“It’s fine.” Mycroft put the coffee down and glanced back at the front, but there was no sign of new customers. “And...it would be fine if you kissed me.”

Greg paused, pulling his hands out and wiping them on his apron. “Are you sure?” 

“Gregory, we have known each other for nearly thirty years. I have had a bit to think about things.” Mycroft smiled at him. “We just never had time, did we?”

“No. Don’t think we did.” Greg smiled back and stepped closer, crowding Mycroft up against the workspace and cupping his face. “But you know, you did say you were bored.” He leaned in, stealing a deep kiss. 

Mycroft moaned softly, hands resting on Greg’s hips, vaguely aware he was getting covered in flour and a bit of dough, and for once not even caring.

Greg pulled away, resting their foreheads together. “That was worth waiting for,” he murmured. “What do you think?” 

“I think so. Are we idiots to have waited so long?”

“Mm, maybe, but we’re idiots anyway according to your brother, so who cares?” Greg chuckled. 

“True. As if he and John have room to talk.” Mycroft leaned in to kiss him again. “When do you close for the night?”

“Normally around eight. Three more hours, a little less.” 

“I suppose I should get back to work then… sir.” Mycroft winked at him. “Don’t want to get fired my first day.”

“I like the sound of that.” Greg rolled his eyes and kissed Mycroft again, just as the doorbell rang. “Damn. Back to work.” 

Mycroft went back to the front, unable to help the smile on his face.

**

“So, how was your first day?” Greg asked, locking the front door and turning off the sign. “Think you’ll come back?” He turned to Mycroft with a smile. 

“I find I have little desire to leave.”

“Why? You don’t have the hots for your boss, do you?” Greg teased, taking his hand. “Would you like to go to dinner with me?” 

“I do and I would love to.”

“Let me just take off my apron.” Greg leaned in and kissed his cheek. 

“I can wash the dishes.” Mycroft rolled up his sleeves. 

“Gorgeous, hard worker and not afraid to get his hands dirty. What did I find?” Greg chuckled. 

“An old man in need of a job?”

“You’re not old.” 

“You make me feel young.”

“I could make you feel even younger. If you’re interested,” Greg grinned. 

Mycroft met his eyes. “I would, sir.”

“Sir?” Greg asked, still grinning as he reached out, cupping Mycroft’s hip. 

“You like when I call you sir.”

“Mm, a little. Kinda miss the authority I used to have,” Greg said, stepping into Mycroft’s space. “But do you like calling me sir?” 

“I do. I always relished giving up...control with someone I can trust, rare as it's been.”

“Well, we’ll have to see where that goes, now won’t we? I always enjoyed having control,” Greg said. “We might be even more suited to one another than we expected.” 

“Indeed. Full of surprises.” Mycroft leaned against the counter with his best come hither look. 

Greg took his apron off, tossing it onto the table and pressing Mycroft up against the counter with his body. “We’re going to go to dinner,” he murmured, pressing his lips to the curve of Mycroft’s ear. “And then, if you’re still willing, I’m going to take you home, make you kneel and suck my cock. Afterwards, I’m going to open you up until you’re begging for me to fuck you. And then, if you sound pretty enough, maybe I will.” 

Mycroft couldn't help the ragged moan, the way his breath caught. “Yes. Please.”

Greg grinned and nipped at his neck. “Good, pet. Let’s go. Finish those dishes.” 

“Yes, sir.” Mycroft shivered. 

Pulling away, Greg sat down in the chair, watching Mycroft clean. “Finished?” he asked after Mycroft had stacked the last tray in the drying rack. “Good. Let’s go.”

**

Dinner went by too fast for Greg’s liking, though it was likely because he spent it teasing the ever loving Christ out of Mycroft under the table. 

Mycroft thought if Greg touched him one more time he might come right in his trousers. “Are you done with your dessert?” he asked.

“Nearly. Be ready for a second helping when we get back to mine,” Greg said, pressing his heel pointedly. 

Mycroft bit back a groan. “Keep it up and I won't make it that far.”

“Oh, you will. That’s an order,” Greg smirked.

“Gregory…”

“How close?” Greg asked, shifting his foot back just a bit. 

“Very. It's been some time.”

“Do you want me to stop?” 

“Please. If you don't I may well come in my trousers. My safe word is Glasgow.”

“Let’s leave then, shall we?” 

Mycroft nodded and stood, holding his jacket in front of him to hide his straining erection. 

Greg smiled and settled his hand on Mycroft’s lower back, leading him out of the restaurant and to the car. “How do you feel right now? Think people know?” 

“Maybe. How do you feel, knowing you did this?”

“Quite pleased with myself as long as you like it,” Greg purred, kissing his shoulder. 

“It's been a long time since I’ve trusted anyone enough.”

“How far would you like me to take this?” Greg asked. 

“What did you have in mind?”

“My biggest thing has always been pleasing my partner. If you are happy, then so am I. I have a few full stops, but as long as you get where you're going,” Greg said, gesturing to Mycroft’s trousers, “then I'm going to get where I am. So if you want to lose that control, then I just need to know how much of it you're losing. How much talk you want. Name calling, things like this. Do you want me to spank you? Do you want to be tied up?” 

Mycroft nodded. “I like being tied up and spanked. Name calling not so much. But I do like if you talk to me, give me some idea of what to expect.” He got into Greg’s car. “Small things like this are okay in public as long as I can maintain some control. Like having a jacket.”

Greg nodded. “Is ‘pet’ or ‘love’ all right to call you, though?” he asked, getting into the driver's side and starting the car. “Because, to be honest, those will just slip out. I'll try if they aren't.” 

“From you it's fine.” Mycroft put a hand on his knee. 

Greg grinned back at him, holding his gaze as he opened Mycroft’s trousers. There was no move to stop him as he gave his erection a quick stroke. Mycroft’s eyes slammed shut as he came, blushing, at the still semi-public display, though there was no one near the car.

Slowly, Mycroft opened his eyes.“Not how I imagined the first time you'd make me come, but I'm not upset either.”

Greg tossed him a guilty grin. “Neither am I. You could have stopped me.” 

“I know. And that's why I allowed it. But I would like to get out of these damp trousers.”

“Ten minutes to mine,” Greg promised. 

“Good. I believe you wanted me on my knees?”

“I did,” Greg said. “Still willing?” 

“Quite.”

“Perfect,” Greg said, reaching over and taking his hand with a gentle squeeze.

**

Mycroft barely paid attention to the house as he was pulled inside and pushed up against the wall, kissed hungrily. He moaned into the kiss, wanting to be stripped naked and presented for Greg’s pleasure. 

“Bedroom,” Greg growled, slapping his arse as he pulled away. “Down the hall. Be ready when I get in there.” 

“Sir,” grinned Mycroft.

He got down the hall in record time, especially considering his age, but was stripped and kneeling at the foot of Greg’s bed by the time the other man made an appearance, hands clasped behind his back.

“Very good, love. Age hasn't slowed you down. Or made you any less gorgeous,” Greg murmured, stepping over and running his hands through Mycroft’s hair. “Stand up again for a minute.” 

Mycroft did so, a little bit confused by the request.

Greg sat down and and threw a pillow on the ground between his legs. “All right, pet. Back down.” 

Mycroft smiled softly, finding the pillow did help his knees as he settled.

“Better?” Greg asked, unzipping his flies. 

“Yes. Thank you.” Mycroft licked his lips.

“Been wanting to have your mouth on me for years,” Greg muttered, giving himself a quick stroke as he looked down at Mycroft. 

“Wanted to taste you for years.” Mycroft ran his tongue up Greg’s shaft before wrapping his mouth around him.

Greg groaned, threading his fingers through Mycroft’s hair and tugging lightly. 

Mycroft bobbed his head, still feeling the damp of his release on his skin, revelling in the pull of Greg’s hand, the sparks of pain and pleasure that were already floating through his body.

“Good,” Greg breathed. “Good, My. Won't last. Been a while for me too.” 

Mycroft pulled off. “Would you fuck me, Gregory?”

“You want that?” Greg asked, nodding. “Get on the bed.” 

Mycroft nodded, using the bed for leverage to get up and climbing into the middle on hands and knees.

Greg dug through his bedside drawer, pulling out a nearly empty tube of lube. “Like I said. Been a while.” He tossed it on the bed and resumed digging, pulling out a strip of three condoms. “Shopping trip might be in my future.” 

“Be happy to go with you. And I’ll be sure to get you my test results.”

“I'll get you mine too,” Greg said. “I certainly would love not to use one of these with you.” 

He shifted, settling on his knees behind Mycroft. “You have a gorgeous arse. Wonder what it would look like with my handprints all over it.” 

“I look forward to finding out. My pale skin marks quickly.”

“Does it?” Greg dropped down, sinking his teeth gently into the curve of Mycroft’s arse and biting. 

Mycroft groaned and wriggled against him. 

“Ah,” Greg said in a muffled voice, smacking his hip. “‘M busy, stop moving.” He pulled off with a pleased grin, kissing the mark. “You’re right. You do mark easy.” 

“You should open me up.”

“I will. Lemme enjoy this,” Greg chuckled, reaching out for the lube.

Mycroft pillowed his head in his hands, waiting. 

Greg slicked his fingers and pressed one in teasingly.

Mycroft moaned deeply. “Oh yes.”

“Love the sound of your voice,” Greg murmured. 

“Always enjoyed yours. Alway wondered what it would sound like groaning my name.”

“You’ll hear in a bit. If you beg.” 

“You should make me into a sopping mess, then.”

“I can do that,” Greg replied, pressing two more slick fingers in. 

Mycroft groaned and braced himself, loving the stretch

“Can’t wait to be inside you,” Greg murmured. “How long has it been?” 

“Since I last had a lover? One night stand three years ago.”

“Oh love. That’s far too long for someone as sexy as you,” Greg said, running his hand over Mycroft’s spine, scraping his nails down the man’s back. 

Mycroft shivered. “I rarely indulged. What was the last for you?”

“Rarely indulged anyway?” Greg asked, kissing his shoulder. “Few months ago.”

Mycroft looked back over his shoulder. “You went on two dates with her, before deciding that it wouldn’t work out.”

Greg sighed. “I've missed that,” he said, pushing his fingers forward pointedly. “But yes. She wanted something I didn't.” 

“And what did you want?”

“I wanted someone who understood how my life has gone, what I've been through, and understands that I'm looking for someone I can trust, and be with for the rest of it,” Greg said. “And this conversation isn't as awkward as you might think, considering I've got my fingers up your arse.” 

Mycroft chuckled. “I feel the same way about you.”

“Wanna give it a go then? Past tonight?” 

“Certainly. Thought you'd offered me a job anyway.”

“Well, I hope you didn't agree to the shag just for the job,” Greg teased, curving his fingers. 

“Not at all.” Mycroft shivered as Greg hit his prostate. 

“Ooh, that the spot?” Greg asked, dragging his fingers over again. 

Mycroft moaned low and closed his eyes as he nodded. 

“Good. Beg,” Greg whispered. 

“Fuck me, Gregory.” Mycroft pitched his voice low and hungry. “Please.”

“Again.” Greg reached a hand under and teased at his cock. 

Mycroft rocked back against him. “Fuck me. Use me.”

Greg pulled his fingers away, tearing the condom open and rolling it on. “Like this or do your knees need a rest?” He asked. 

“I’m fine. Just do it, Gregory.”

“Want you to be comfortable...and desperate,” Greg said, shuffling closer, draping himself over Mycroft’s body. “Like making you beg for my cock,” he whispered, and then pressed in, just the head of his cock pushing past Mycroft’s rim.

Mycroft couldn’t help the groan that ripped from his lips. “I have been desperate for your cock for at least twenty-eight years,” he whispered.

“Holy fuck,” Greg said hoarsely, cock suddenly just that much harder. “I've wanted to hear that for at least the same amount.” 

“Good.” Mycroft moaned and wrapped a hand around his own cock, though he wasn’t quite fully up again. 

“You feel so good, pet. Hot and tight, fucking gorgeous,” Greg muttered, pushing in further. “You want a proper fuck? Hard and fast?” 

“God please, yes.”

“Thank god.” Greg snapped his hips forward with a moan.

Mycroft cried out, bracing himself. It was everything he’d hoped it would be and more.

“Good?” Greg grunted, repeating the motion. 

“Yes, yes, more!” Mycroft was losing control and it felt so good.

“Gorgeous,” Greg praised, setting up a near frantic pace. 

Mycroft’s cries were steady and he found himself falling into a space he’d rarely found before, one where he didn’t need to be in control, where he could let things happen and the world wouldn’t end.

Greg dropped his head, kissing Mycroft’s shoulder as he reached a hand under him, toying with his nipples. “Think you can come for me?” he purred. “Not gonna last long.” 

Mycroft nodded, unable to speak. He twisted his wrist, bringing himself closer to climax.

“That’s it, love.” Greg suddenly pulled out, pushing Mycroft over onto his back and spreading his legs, thrusting in again. “I need to watch you come. See how messy you’ll look, how fuckin’ wrecked you’ll be.” 

Mycroft looked into his warm brown eyes and was undone, coming weakly after his earlier orgasm, but still writhing slowly with pleasure. 

“Gorgeous,” Greg managed, then was coming hard, burying his face in Mycroft’s neck.

Mycroft wrapped arms around him, holding him tight. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” Greg said, voice muffled. He lifted his head, and kissed the underside of Mycroft’s jaw, pulling out slowly. “All right?” 

“Well worth the wait.”

“Good,” Greg said. “Gimme a minute, yeah?” He got up, and headed out and to the bathroom, disposing of the condom and washing his hands, bringing back a warm washcloth and a mug of water. “Here, love. Lemme take care of you.” 

“I’m glad I came today.”

Greg grinned at him. “Is that an innuendo?” he asked, tossing the washcloth aside after he finished swiping it over Mycroft’s hands and belly. “I’m glad you came too.” 

Mycroft kissed him gently. “Worth the wait.”

Greg kissed him back, tugging him into his arms. “Staying the night? I’m a baker now. Gonna be an early morning.”

“You’d have to make me leave.”

“Never,” Greg grinned, reaching out and shutting off the light. 

**

The week went by quickly, and Mycroft and Greg nearly seamlessly entwined themselves, both at the bakery and every night in one of their beds, often Greg’s.

On Sunday, Greg closed up early and dragged Mycroft out to dinner again, though this time there was far less out and more in, as he'd set up the bakery's kitchen with candles, a tablecloth and flowers, barring Mycroft from entering until he called him. He also had a special surprise planned for later, probably something that a health inspector wouldn't approve of. 

“All right. You can come in now.” 

Mycroft came out and broke into a grin. “Oh, Greg, it’s lovely.”

“Dinner. Just the two of us, and the bread you baked earlier. To start anyway,” Greg smiled. 

“Mmm, I’ll have to look forward to desert.”

“Dessert is a surprise,” Greg promised, pulling out a chair for Mycroft.

“All right. Guess we’ll find out how good my bread is.”

“Well, you did have a good teacher. I'd say so anyway.” Greg pushed the chair in and took a seat, pouring wine. 

Mycroft smiled and picked up his glass. “Thank you.”

Greg picked up his own and tipped them together. “Are you actually happy helping me?” 

“I truly am. I don’t remember the last time I was so very happy.”

“If you want to continue, I'd love to teach you more.” 

“I've always enjoyed learning.”

“You are brilliant,” Greg said, smiling at him as he took a sip. “Let's eat, and see if you can deduce your surprise for later.” 

“It's often more fun if I don't.”

“It’ll be fun either way.” 

“Of that I am certain.” Mycroft ate carefully. 

Greg couldn’t help but watch him as they ate, wondering how he’d gotten so lucky that Mycroft had come to him, and that Mycroft wanted him. 

Mycroft smiled at Greg, reading the look on his face. “I feel just as lucky.”

“You’re up to your tricks again,” Greg said, smiling back at him. “I’m glad you do.”

Mycroft reached across and took his hand. “You fit the pieces of me that I didn’t know were missing.” 

“We’re a very good lookin’ puzzle in our old age, aren’t we?” Greg asked, squeezing gently. 

“We are. And I’m so glad we finally had time to learn that.”

“You know...I love being with you, and I keep expecting it to wear off. That elated feeling down my spine I get everytime I see you,” Greg said. “But it hasn’t. Not in all this time. In fact, it’s worse now, because I know now that I can kiss you.” 

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since almost the first time we met.”

“Was it the marriage that kept you away?” 

“At first,” admitted Mycroft. “I knew you were unhappy, but I also knew that you were trying to fix things. And another five years went by like that. Then your divorce and I didn’t want to be just a rebound.”

“It might not mean much but...you would never have been just a rebound.” 

Mycroft gave a sad smile. “I know. But...perhaps I was afraid of this thing between us. Besides, with your job and mine there just never seemed to be time.”

“But we have time now,” Greg replied. He stood and pushed his plate away, coming over to Mycroft. “For whatever we want.” He cupped Mycroft’s face and leaned in for a kiss. 

Mycroft kissed him back, sighing softly. With any luck they could well have another thirty years together.

“Are you ready for dessert?” Greg murmured, stroking his thumb over Mycroft’s cheek. 

Mycroft shivered. “Mmm, yes, I think I am.”

“Oh, good. Undress,” Greg ordered gently. 

“Yes, sir.” Mycroft stood and started to do so.

Greg smiled, and stepped in the back room. “Close your eyes.” 

Mycroft stood naked and let his eyes close. 

Greg came back in, and set their dessert on the table, and then stepped behind Mycroft. “Do you trust me?” he murmured, slipping a silky tie over Mycroft’s eyes. “Tell me your word.” 

“I do. Glasgow.”

“Good.” Greg kissed the back of his neck and then position his arms behind his back. “Tell me if you’re uncomfortable.” He began to wrap soft cord around Mycroft’s arms, looping it over his shoulders and then down, plaiting three strands where they hung over his chest before bringing two of the pieces back. “Spread your legs.” 

Mycroft's heart beat fast, but he remained outwardly calm, spreading his legs for him, and trying to keep his balance. 

Greg kissed his spine as he knelt, running the cord between his legs and making an almost triangle around his cock, twining the cord back and forth until Mycroft’s entire body was crisscrossed in braids and diamonds. “There now.” Greg stepped back and looked at him in awe. “If you could only see yourself,” he murmured. “Should take photos.” 

“If you wish.”

“Really?” Greg asked. “I’d love to. But only if you want me to. I’ll take them with your mobile…” 

“Okay. I trust that you can keep them between you and I.”

“Of course.” Greg went over to Mycroft’s jacket. “My?” he said quietly. “You remember how our test results came in and we just haven’t had time to celebrate quite yet? Mind if we do now?” 

“Mm, yes please.”

Greg grinned, and started taking photos. He finally set the phone aside and gently pushed Mycroft to bend over the table. “Ready to begin?”

Mycroft licked his lips. “Yes, sir.”

Greg pried open the first container he had waiting, and took a spoon, dripping the contents over the curve of Mycroft’s arse. 

Mycroft jerked at the cold. “Ice cream?”

Greg just chuckled, lapping it off as he reached for the next container. 

Mycroft moaned again as he felt the heated caramel. “I’m afraid it’s been quite some time since there was any sort of cherry.”

Greg snorted. “I’m sure we can find one thing that hasn't been done for you,” he laughed, biting a mark into Mycroft’s hip.

Mycroft groaned, cock already straining.

Greg took the spoons up again, trailing a line of hot caramel straight down Mycroft’s spine, a line of ice cream along the other side. 

Mycroft shivered and tried to force himself to relax, knowing he was safe with Greg.

“That’s it. Relax,” Greg purred, licking away the mess. 

Mycroft moaned, buzzing and sensitive. 

Greg kissed the dip of his back and then knelt behind him, pressing his cheeks apart. “Know what comes next?” he asked. 

“You're going to lick me open?” Mycroft said with wonder in his voice. 

“Mhm,” Greg agreed, and blew a cool breath over his rim.

Another low moan escaped his throat. Mycroft could feel the ropes as he wiggled in his bonds. “Thank you, sir.”

Greg chuckled and leaned forward for a long slow lick. 

The sound ripped from Mycroft’s throat could only be called undignified. 

“I hope this isn’t a cherry,” Greg murmured, kissing his arse and then going back to work. 

Mycroft groaned again, feeling himself surrender. 

Greg reached around, stroking Mycroft’s cock. 

“Thank you,” mumbled Mycroft. 

“You’re welcome, pet. If you can come from this, go ahead.” 

Moaning again, Mycroft rocked into his hand.

Greg moaned himself, pushing his tongue forward. 

With a whimper, Mycroft spilled over his hand.

Greg pulled his hand away and grasped Mycroft’s hips, pinning him in place as he keep going. 

Mycroft whimpered again, trying to pull away, loving the way he was pinned and bound.

Greg held him steady, knowing Mycroft would safe word if he needed. 

Eyes closed behind the blindfold, cool counter underneath him, Mycroft tumbled deeper into subspace, stilling and allowing Greg to do what he would.

Greg finally pulled away when Mycroft was sopping with saliva, loose enough for him to press one finger into easily. “Good?” he asked, feeling how still Mycroft was, stroking his hand over his side. “Ah...color, love?” he asked, wondering if Mycroft knew the system.

It took Mycroft a moment. “Green,” he said sluggishly. 

“That’s it. Stay down,” Greg soothed, petting his hair. “Gonna keep stretching you.” He reached out for the lube, and pressed two fingers inside, coaxing Mycroft’s body open. 

Mycroft adjusted his legs, feeling the ropes tugging as he did so.

“Beautiful. So good for me,” Greg praised, pressing a third in when Mycroft was ready. “Almost ready for my cock. Gonna feel so good.” 

“All yours,” whispered Mycroft. 

Greg stretched him a bit more, and then slicked his cock. “Gorgeous,” he murmured, pressing into Mycroft, reveling in the feel of skin on skin. “So hot.” 

“Good. Gregory.”

“How you feelin’ My?” Greg whispered, pushing deeper. “Color.” 

“Green. Really good.” Mycroft was still floating, feeling the way Greg was taking him only distantly. 

“Okay.” Greg started to thrust, rocking in and out of him in a slow, loving rhythm. 

Mycroft rocked back against him, wanting Greg to enjoy himself too. 

Greg groaned as Mycroft moved with him.

“Gregory.”

“Love hearing you say my name,” Greg moaned.

“Feel so good my vocabulary fails me.”

“You're still talking though,” Greg said, huffing out a laugh. 

“Barely.”

Greg thrust in deep, both of them moaning in sync. “I won't be in a minute.” 

Mycroft tugged against the ropes, feeling them mark his pale skin. 

“You're gonna be all marked up,” Greg said, guessing at his actions. “You like it? Maybe I'll make you a harness for under your clothes.” 

Mycroft nodded, wanting that. 

“God, you’re perfect,” Greg groaned. He sped his hips, and then with a final thrust came deep. Once he’d finished he pulled away and sank to his knees again, lapping Mycroft clean. 

Mycroft mewed with pleasure, legs starting to shake. 

“Gorgeous,” Greg said, sinking his teeth into Mycroft’s thigh for a moment, marking him. 

“Yours.”

“Mine,” Greg said with a final lick. “Forever.” He raised up slowly, mindful of his knees and pressed a kiss to the back of Mycroft’s neck. “Now. Let’s go home.” 

He helped Mycroft dress and then cleaned up their mess as he sat, not bothering with removing the ropes after Mycroft had shook his head when he tried the first time. They drove home and Greg ran a bath, helping Mycroft get in with him and feeling more than content.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! You can find us on AO3 at [Janto321 ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/)and [HumsHappily](http://archiveofourown.org/users/humshappily) or on tumblr at [merindab ](http://merindab.tumblr.com)(janto321) and [HumsHappily](http://hums-happily.tumblr.com)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Cover Art For La Tresse: The Plaited Bun](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6748369) by [HumsHappily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HumsHappily/pseuds/HumsHappily)




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